


Learning Curve

by context_please



Series: A Million Little Pieces - Drabbles for Macx's Pushing Boundaries Series [8]
Category: Jurassic Park (Movies), Jurassic World (2015)
Genre: Apparently everyone is a little stupid, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I can't leave OCs alone in peace, Interns suck, Major Character Injury, Raptors, Slice of Life, Some people are too stupid, The raptors are terrifying but still adorable, This is a tribute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 10:59:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4389200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/context_please/pseuds/context_please
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The guy-with-the-moustache (who he finds out later is actually named Owen) is strolling around casually, like the raptors aren’t man-eating killers.</p>
<p>A drabble for Macx's Threshold Shift.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Learning Curve

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Macx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macx/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Threshold Shift](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4242024) by [Macx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macx/pseuds/Macx). 



> Why hello again!
> 
> Sorry for the lack of updates - I went to a convention over the weekend! It was a lot of fun and the afterparty went a little late so writing just didn't work out for my yesterday. Luckily I have finished this piece, though.
> 
> Peter is Macx's OC. Go read Tainted and Threshold Shift now, thanks. They are great and I'm not sure why you haven't already read them. If you have, please continue.

Peter Kozinski is just an intern.

It’s all he can think, looking into the eyes of a velociraptor and pushing back the sudden zing of fear in his bladder.

He hasn’t been on Isla Nublar for long, has done some brief stints with various keepers. He spends his time observing the huge dinosaurs that make Jurassic World unique and his nights staring at the stars. It’s fascinating. Peter knows it’s the light pollution that stops him from seeing the stars when he’s stateside, but it’s different witnessing them for real. Jurassic World was built to demonstrate the longevity of this planet and humble the humans who thought they owned it. And, after watching the stocky bulk of a triceratops giving him the stink eye, Peter has been duly awed.

When he looks into the black midnight sky, the stars hang above him. He thinks that people used to be humbled by them, too. But every night they see the stars and it’s like they don’t mean anything anymore. Just like his mum stopped being awed by his newborn sister after a week of her wailing. Like his professor had stopped being fascinated by animal behavior and trudged through lectures without even the hint of a smile. The stars weren’t enough. So Hammond brought back dinosaurs, to shock the human race out of their complacency.

Now? Extinct animals are not enough either.

His hands won’t stay still. Fingers juddering around, palms moist and wrists stiff. His heart is trying to crawl its way out of his mouth to beat in his sweaty palm. The raptor eyes him like he’s particularly tasty lunch. Peter’s not sure why – he’s stringy at best and probably too crunchy. If he were a food, he’d be a charcoal gilled fish finger, all burned and black. The raptor is staring right into him, and the tingling in his bladder makes itself known again. Her eyes are orange. The colour of low-burning embers the time Peter’s best friend took him camping and almost burned the tent down. She’s smart – he’s seen enough animals to recognize the spark of cool logic in her eyes. The cold reptilian hunger in her slitted pupils.

Seriously, Peter is just an intern. No way in his wildest nightmares (not dreams – _this_ could never be a happy dream) did he think he would be staring down a velociraptor and losing.

Peter just enjoys studying. He likes the sound of pages turning in a quiet library, the smell of books and the weight of a finished paper in his hands. Loves the constant discovery of new things – loves learning in general. Animals and animal behavior have always fascinated him. He likes other people, sure, but there’s something about working with animals that Peter can’t shake. They are transparent, completely uncomplicated once you understand their secrets. And Peter’s been training for the last few years, cataloguing little tells and complexities. He likes to think he can recognize the downward tilt to a dog’s head and knows the language of a cat’s ears.

And Peter is just an intern. He’s not even that great, really. Peter’s always been at the top of his class, always understands the technicalities of essays and the work required of him. Always knows exactly what he needs to do. And even after all of it he never feels like the best. His classmates all work at vets and animal practices – some even at a zoo – and Peter’s only done two stints for two months in total. He has nearly no hands-on experience and he’s about to graduate.

The raptor’s eyes are on him, intent, and her lips are twitching. Her jaw jumps but it’s swollen on one side, and he knows it’s the raptor Doctor Themming came to treat.

The guy-with-the-moustache (who he finds out later is actually named Owen) is strolling around casually, like the raptors aren’t man-eating killers. Like they’re not making Peter’s heart tear its way of his ribcage. Like his bladder isn’t going to give up the ghost in three seconds. Like his legs aren’t shuddering beneath him.

This guy is different somehow. He whistles ear-splittingly loud, scaring the shit out of Peter, and commands, ‘Charlie! Box!’ Punctuates the order with a sharp gesture.

And thank God, Peter can breathe again. The raptor – Charlie, presumably – breaks eye contact to obey his orders, loading herself into a cattle box. Her eyes dart around agitatedly, unwilling to expose herself as Owen says, ‘open wide, Charlie,’ conversationally, as if she can understand him.

Peter isn’t entirely sure what’s happening. This guy is strange – too casual around the raptors, too at-ease. It’s like he knows them personally. This must be the alpha he’s heard whispers about. Reggie, the head keeper of the herbivores, mentions him sometimes, calls him the Alpha Raptor or the Raptor Whisperer.

Peter has no idea what it implies. Reggie talked about the guy like he was a particularly well-kept secret or a fantastic inside joke. Peter can’t decide which.

All he knows is that he’s staring into the open jaws of a raptor, praying his bladder won’t fail him now.

 

 

 

 

 

The Alpha Raptor looks like absolute shit.

Peter’s been assisting him for a week, but he still can’t get over the sight of Owen Grady looking like he’s been stepped on by a stegosaurus. Vivid black and blue bruising peeks out from beneath his standard button-up blue shirt, marching up his neck like an ant colony. There are dark rings under his eyes, and Peter doesn’t blame him. At fifteen he’d broken his arm and couldn’t sleep properly for three weeks – the cast and the pain pushed him to toss and turn incessantly. The constant tiredness formed this headache right behind his eyes that even the strongest painkillers couldn’t touch.

Owen was assaulted by a tree – it’s no wonder he’s miserable. Peter catches him staring into the distance sometimes, pupils shrunk down to tiny pinpoints. Sees him track movement sluggishly, blue iris cloudy and blurred. He moves his limbs with extreme caution, and Peter can practically _see_ the pain lacing its way up from his extremities, threads of hurt weaving together into a canvas of aching muscles and abused tendons. Sees Owen avoid bright light, head tilted permanently downward. He carries his head carefully, and Peter does not envy the headache he’s obviously been stuck with. But because he’s Owen Grady, the Alpha Raptor, he goes into the paddock with his girls anyway. They brush up against him like particularly concerned cats, all soft and cuddly for their alpha but hostile to outside interference.

Peter’s come face-to-face with a raptor before. She was playful then, and he’d had to change his underpants. He hopes he’ll never have to see a truly hungry – or worse, enraged – raptor. His heart might give out, and he really needs it.

Peter isn’t sure what he’s expecting, when he sticks around after he should have finished. Actually doesn’t know why he thought it would be a good idea. But he does, so he sees Owen haul himself up from his seat on the porch and hobble over to the paddock. He’s beaten, downtrodden, but alive. He’s hurt, but he’s still moving. Opening the doors clearly takes effort but Peter resists the urge to help. He’s not sure why he’s here – just knows that offering to help means he won’t get to see whatever it was he stayed for.

The doors open, and Blue is the first to approach him. Peter’s lips pull into a little grin. It’s always Blue. Throughout everything, Blue is the first to be there for Owen, to approach him, to protect him. She may have the most intelligent eyes in the pack but she’s got the biggest heart.

Peter was given the task of observing them, when he first started his internship with Owen. He’s a keen observer – wouldn’t have graduated if he wasn’t – and there’s a lot to observe with Owen’s girls.

Echo is the most excitable of the bunch. Her bright eyes constantly track movement – whether it’s Peter, the wild chickens that are stupid enough to enter a predator’s enclosure, or the shrubbery moving with the breeze. She’s the youngest of the bunch, always seems to have a bounce in her stride, coiled tight with excited tension. She’s a proud girl, too – he can see that in the tilt of her head when Owen talks about saddle bags, the laid-back set to her shoulders as she bounces toward the harness.

Delta is the most aggressive of the bunch. She often snaps at her sisters when they come too close or bump her too roughly. She watches the fence for any lizards and chickens that might cross the threshold of the paddock and run into her waiting jaws. Her dark-and-light green colouration blend into the undergrowth seamlessly as she stalks Echo when her sister isn’t paying attention. But there’s a playful side to her as well. Like Echo, she can lose herself in her enthusiasm. Peter’s seen it, up close and personal. Delta had looked at him like he might be a good snack, and only grumbled a little when Owen sent her away. When she’s in a good mood, she’ll get revenge on her overly enthusiastic sisters by jumping out of the undergrowth and going straight for exposed underbellies, nipping mischievously. When Peter’s there, she’ll creep around in the corners of his vision and chuff loudly at him when he’s not paying attention. It scared the holy hell out of him the first few times but he’s used to it now. She still watches him with a playful glint in her eyes – as though she’s waiting for him to slip up again, and he’s learned his lesson. Peter knows how to protect himself, how to do his job correctly. Delta’s playfulness is amusing from the outside, but he’s seen it up close and he’s not keen on doing it again.

In comparison to her sisters, Charlie is relatively docile. She likes the heaviness of the sun on her skin and spends most of her days with half-lidded eyes. Dozing is her favourite pastime, and Peter knows all of her secret spots. She tends to stick close to the fence, to let the warmth of the sun seep into her skin before the shade encroaches on her dozing spots. Her mostly commonly used spot is about ten meters away from the gate. She curls up after gouging a Charlie-shaped hole for herself, and obviously enjoys the heat of the sandy dirt around her. The spot is also the closest to the access road, and she is always the first to know if someone’s coming. Peter’s seen her rumble lowly when other keepers like Reggie and Laurel come around. She tolerates their presence because the alpha trusts them. But when Dan Carter’s SUV toddles up the dirt track, she barks excitedly, her sisters echoing the call. They like Carter, for some unfathomable reason. He guesses Carter has earned their respect. If there’s one thing he’s learned about raptors, it’s that if you respect them, they might return the favour some day. And the respect of a raptor is worth cherishing.

Charlie tends to get jealous of her sisters. She envies the amount of time Blue spends with Owen – watches the two of them with narrowed eyes. She’s the smartest in the pack, right behind Blue. But she doesn’t push, because it isn’t her place. Most of the time, Charlie and Delta come as a matched set anyway, so she’s never alone. Delta likes her calm quietness, her presence. Some days, she’ll even curl up on Charlie, and Peter can never tell when one ends and the other begins. Delta offers her protection against Echo’s grating enthusiasm, so it’s a win-win situation. But as much as Charlie loves lazing around, she’s always the first to the gate when it’s time to go on patrol. The muscles in her legs shudder the most, trembling against the stripes on her skin. Owen tells Peter she’s the fastest after Blue. He’s not really surprised.

And Blue? Blue is Owen’s beta, and his sister, and his best friend, and his lifeline. In all of this, Blue is the key. She is the lynchpin that holds the entire operation together. She and Owen share something deeper than the bond of alpha and beta. If they didn’t, Blue would have eaten him when he lost his fight with a falling tree. She wouldn’t have coordinated a plan to carry Owen to Claire Dearing’s house – and how she knew where Claire lived, Peter will never know – and waited patiently for him to return. Blue loves him, completely and utterly, in her own way. Just like she loves all of her sisters. She may be the picture of authority and cool control, may always be watching strangers and rarely her kin, but she is the warmest of them all. She is kind and careful, indulges Echo’s enthusiasm and Delta’s playfulness. Sometimes heeds Charlie’s soft pleading and curls around her, spending an afternoon soaking in the sun. She makes her sisters feel safe. But most of all, she makes Owen feel safe. She can’t verbalize her feelings – and yet, she doesn’t need to. It’s so easy to see. It’s in the way she leaps to defend her sisters, even though she’s not overly aggressive; in the way she takes care of the pack but lets Owen take charge; in the way she’s his equal and still submissive to him; in the way she pushes into his hands, like she doesn’t realize she’s always seeking his touch. Peter prides himself on finding out an animal’s secrets, but Blue is made of so many facets he thinks he’ll never understand her complexity.

So he watches as Owen steps towards his girls, a broad grin breaking out on his face. Watches some unseen tension in his shoulder relax; his complete assurance in his touches. Watches Blue come up behind him, fore-claws tucking in against his ribs, and her muzzle in the small of his back, nostrils flaring with his familiar scent. Watches Echo bound around at the edge of the swirling mass of raptors, constantly rubbing her side back and forth along the hand Owen holds out for her. Watches the tension bleed out of Charlie’s striped shoulders as she sniffs delicately at the bruised skin of Owen’s neck. Delta rubs her head along his chest and raises it to scent Owen’s hair. He huffs out a painful laugh when she snorts, clearing the hair from her nostrils.

Blue’s rumbling in a purr, Echo’s holding Owen’s hand upright with her back, Delta’s rubbing her jaw through his hair, and Charlie’s nuzzling oh so carefully at the bruising on his neck. They’re so tender, so completely careful, that Peter can’t watch anymore. He turns away, a huge lump stuck in the back of his throat, and takes a shuddering breath. His eyes are blurry, but his cheeks are dry. His heart beats sluggishly, like the warmth crawling its way up his lungs is settling there too. Owen Grady should be dead, but he’s always the exception to the rule. Always different.

The raptors show him how much he means to them, how he is their alpha.

Peter turns away. This is beautiful, and it isn’t for him to see.

 

 

 

 

 

Peter Kozinski certainly loves his job. He’s so glad that he decided to stay after the raptor-incident-that-shall-not-be-named, because his life is here now. Gary is a great boss and Peter loves spending his time in the vet clinic, helping sick dinosaurs. He gets to visit all of the different enclosures and touch so many dinosaurs it’s worth the fear of God the raptors put into him. He still goes to see them, sometimes, and Charlie almost always barks excitedly at him from her post at the fence. He smiles back at her and brings her little strips of beef jerky. Peter’s not ashamed to admit Charlie is his favourite.

He goes there a couple of days a week, to unwind. The interns Masrani Global have saddled him with are the most annoying kids in the universe. He goes to the raptors to clear his head, and watches them. Every time he discovers something new, and Peter loves learning. He’s still a student at heart – he finds out new facts every day, is always adding to his collection.

His interns are all theoretical knowledge and no hands on experience. It’s painful, to watch them hesitate to touch a sedated pachy, or tentatively approach a baby trike. The triceratops are a stubborn species – even the babies will charge you if you aren’t equally as stubborn. Needless to say, Peter’s completely over pulling interns out of the way. He’s about ready to let some get trampled; indulge the burning tension in his chest.

It’s why he’s completely unsurprised to hear about the incident with Mason Green. The guy’s a douchebag, and Peter knows it’s unprofessional to say that, but it’s true. Peter’s told his interns about how energy works, how an animal will calm if you are calm, and he knows Owen talks about it too. For some reason, that made Mason think he could impersonate an alpha and replace him in the pack.

Peter may have been stupid, but he’s never been _that_ stupid.

He’s finishing off the last of his paperwork when a group of interns file into his office. Peter recognizes them instantly – these four are the most promising of the latest group, and always willing to listen. They love Jurassic World and the work always gets them excited. It’s that kind of excitement Peter and Themming look for in employee candidates. That, and willingness to learn and adapt. These kids have it in spades.

‘Gregory, Patricia, Billy, Hannah,’ he greets, just to show them he remembers their names. ‘Aren’t you on suspension?’

Gregory looks like Peter shoved a lemon straight into his mouth. ‘No thanks to Mason,’ he spits. ‘That fucking halfwit ruined everything.’ His fellow interns are suddenly talking, falling over themselves as they tell stories of Mason Green’s idiocy.

Peter raises an eyebrow, waiting for them to shut up. ‘He did,’ he begins, when it’s finally quiet. ‘But you four will stay on the island, I’m sure of it.’

‘Sir, that’s not what we’re here for,’ Hannah says quietly. She’s not usually this timid, even around the carnivores, so this must be important. Peter puts his pen down, leans his elbows on the desk and gestures them to continue. This might be interesting.

‘Even though we didn’t do anything wrong, we still failed the park, Mr Kozinski,’ Patricia says, and she looks upset. He’s heard she witnessed Mason’s stupid attempt to impersonate an alpha, spent the whole time shouting at him. There wasn’t anything she could do, but Peter knows what it’s like to be useless. What it’s like to stand and watch. Be out of control.

‘I’m sorry,’ he tells the little group. ‘As much as I would like to, I can’t do anything to convince Mr Grady to take interns again. There’s been too many incidents already.’

Billy nods, looking utterly downtrodden. ‘Yeah, we know. We actually wanted your help for something else.’

‘Okay?’

Gregory steps forward then. ‘We want to apologize to Mr Gady, but we don’t know how. We’re not allowed to see him anymore.’

‘We just want him to know we’re sorry for Mason, and that we hope he can forgive us for letting this go so far,’ Patricia says, iron in her voice.

‘Mason acted of his own free will,’ Peter says, voice pitched low. ‘It’s not your fault. But, if you insist on apologizing, you should start by writing Mr Grady a letter. Don’t be afraid to express what you’re feeling. I know it’s not a manly thing to do, but he’ll be able to tell if you’re not genuine. Just make sure you word it nicely.’ Peter gets up, shoos them out of his office. Gregory and Co. smile and thank him, and he can see the words already tumbling in their minds. He’s ready to curl up on his couch and eat deliciously unhealthy take out, so he walks a few paces down the hall before he adds, ‘Oh, and make sure all the interns sign it. You’re all one unit now, all the same. The act of the pack is better than the act of an individual.’

 

 

 

 

 

When Owen tells him about the letter from the park’s interns, Peter sees the pride in his eyes and smiles. He doesn’t tell Owen it was his idea. He just listens to the humorous chuckle in Owen’s voice, and knows it will be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> Peter comes full circle! At least these interns are nice.
> 
> I really enjoyed exploring the raptors a little bit more through Peter, who's obviously a keen student and doesn't know about preternatural talents (yet). Plus, I recently re-watched Jurassic World and needed an outlet for the utter devastation at the end of the movie. 
> 
> And look, I managed to have a short title this time. (I don't think that's going to last long.)


End file.
